AllFreeNovel
Share Us
David
This has to be the weirdest dinner I’ve been a part of in a long time. Anica continuously shifts in her seat, answering in a small voice when I try to initiate a conversation. I’m not a stranger to carrying a dinner conversation, though the reasons are typically different.
Usually, the conversation is stilted because the other party is vapid, vain, and more interested in seeing who else is here or taking Instagram photographs while preening as everyone watches us. Anica seems more distracted by feeling uncomfortable being the center of such scrutiny.
As I truthfully told her, I’ve never really paid much attention to it before. I’ve always had people looking at me because of who I am. Because of my last name. Because of my uncle. It’s a part of my life and I’ve never really considered it an intrusion before.
Across from me, ignoring my latest stab at conversation – the décor – Anica’s eyes light up. Maybe she has seen someone she knows. I wouldn't have thought it likely, but it’s not impossible. I mentioned this place to Uncle Bill. Maybe Cathy is here spying on us. I wouldn’t put it past him. Angie was brought to Kent to spy on us. I like Angie, but I will never not tease Tim for falling for his honeypot.
I subtly look around, trying to spot Cathy’s sleek brown hair in the crowd, but instead, I catch Anica’s eyes fixed on the server. Ah, she’s excited for the meal. That makes two of us. I love dining here. It’s always spectacular.
The server places the two delicious smelling plates before us with a flourish, while the sommelier presents two glasses of champagne.
“Scallop tartare with caviar sauce, and Bollinger to pair. Enjoy.” With enigmatic smiles, he and the sommelier melt away. Anica stares down at the plate and I have a moment of doubt.
“You eat seafood, right?” Shit. If she’s a vegetarian or something…. This whole restaurant is seafood based.
Anica glances up at me with a smile. “Of course. It looks incredible.”
She goes back to looking at her meal but doesn’t move to eat it. Ah. Instagram.
“You can take a photo for Instagram if you like,” I drawl, my eyebrows raised. The telltale red blooms across her cheek.
“I don’t have Instagram,” she mumbles, her fingers skating along the cutlery and understanding dawns. Oh. Right. Like Angie back in Kent, Anica doesn’t know which cutlery to use. I open my mouth to tell her, but catch myself just in time. No one in England told Angie which fork to use. Right. I can do subtle. Clearing my throat, I pick up my fork, right as her eyes dart over again. She relaxes slightly as she selects the same fork. Humiliation averted. I’m quite proud of myself. At least I’ve uncovered another dead-end conversation topic. I seize it with both hands.
“You don’t have Instagram?” I clarify, my eyebrow quirking. Anica, who has forked a mouthful of scallop and caviar into her mouth shrugs and shakes her head. She quickly chews and swallows, offering me a sheepish smile.
“I don’t really take that many pictures. My cheeks always look… round in photographs.”
My eyes dart over her chipmunk cheeks again. Fair enough.
“You don’t have to only put pictures of yourself up on Instagram. Some people do travel shots, or food.” I nod at her plate and her eyes dip down again.
“I suppose I could start one just for this meal.”
I mean… people have started them for less, and this is a nice restaurant… oh. I catch the hint of a smirk. She’s mocking me. Or, at least, mocking Instagram. Okay, that’s not a feeling I relish. New conversation topic.
“Are you originally from Chicago?” I ask as we steadily work our way through the various courses and different wines that are presented to us, each time with a flourish by our waiter.
Anica shakes her head. “Oregon. I moved to Chicago for college. When Haven Enterprises offered me a job, I ended up staying.”
We chat for the rest of the meal about her upbringing in small town Oregon, as well as LA, where my cousin Ryan lives, and Seattle, where my cousin Beau lives. Both of which she has visited. Anica giggles when it becomes apparent that we have been to exactly zero common places in either city.
“We were strictly budget motels.”
I wrinkle my nose. That sounds… unpleasant. She gasps in mock outrage. “Hey! They may not be the Four Seasons, but they’re notthatbad.”
I make a noise of disbelief which has her rolling her eyes. Despite the absolute lack of anything in common, I don’t think I’ve enjoyed a dinner out this much in a very long time. Apart from the ones with my cousins. Once we’ve polished off our truffle and dessert wine, the server comes over, beaming toothily at us.
“And how was everything?”
Anica smiles warmly up at him, practically gushing with enthusiasm. “Everything was so incredibly delicious, and the wine pairings were perfect!”
The server blinks in surprise. I’m pretty sure that no one has ever answered his question so effusively before. There is none of the famous New Yorkennuiat our table right now.
“If you could wait one moment, the chef would like to come and speak with you,” he says at last, melting away. Anica’s eyes widen and her smile becomes a little more frozen as she watches him leave. Leaning over the table to her, I smirk.
“If everything was amazing, how come you look like you just want to be crawling into bed?” I murmur and she flushes bright red.
